Goodwill to Men
by zookitty
Summary: After a harrowing case shakes Reid's faith in humanity he meets and old friend. The one person who could always set him straight.


**An: **Thanks to everyone that's been following along with my 100 theme challenge. Everyone has been so sweet and all your reviews mean so much! Here is my second theme, but I promise the updates will be faster from here on, I already have several in the editing phase.

This story was betaed by the amazing Samantha V. She did a terrific job, thank you Janine!

Samantha did an amazing job but Criminal Minds isn't Samantha's usual forte, so if any of you lovely readers out there would like to beta please let me know

**Spoilers: **Set in season 3, but no specific episode spoilers

The cases Reid references from Psych 101 are real cases, and actually taught in Psych 101.

* * *

**82: Can You Hear Me**

_And in despair I bowed my head_

The snow was swirling in the cold night air, catching and reflecting the glow of Christmas lights from the houses along street. Reid let his eyes catch on one snowflake and followed its descent down into the snow where it mixed with the sheet of white. Each snowflake was entirely unique until it was swallowed up by the collective and then one could not be told from the next.

He lifted his eyes slowly and watched as the local authorities led away the latest unsub. The way he was angled, the Christmas lights caught only half his face and left the rest in shadows. Reid would never forget this man's name; he never forgot anything, but it would not matter. It did not matter how bad he was or what he did. In the end, he was just one more criminal who would join the files in Garcia's computer. The victims were only one more case file, and the last life he claimed was just one more name to join Reid's nightmares of the ones they could not save.

_There is no peace on earth I said_

Reid massaged the bridge of his nose and wiped a stray snowflake off his cheek, as an unknown officer began streaming crime scene tape around the house. It's bright and unpleasant yellow standing contrast to the green and red lights. Reid lowered his eyes to a much darker red that stained the stoop in a chaotic splatter.

Caroline Albright should not have died. She fought her assailant off. She screamed for help. The police were still finding witnesses that heard her screams. Some said they thought someone else would help her. Some said they did not realize it was their problem. Some did not defend themselves at all. Fifteen people and counting, but no one helped her.

He remembered a case study from Psych 101. Catherine Genovese. March 13, 1964. That was a Friday. Kitty, as her friend's called her, was probably excited about the weekend. She never saw it coming when a man attacked her with a knife. There were thirty-eight witnesses that time. No one called the police and a half hour later her attacker returned to finish her off. Thirty-eight people and not one hero among them.

A similar fate took LaShanda Calloway in 2007, except this time witnesses stepped over her body.

_For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth_

Reid saw nothing beyond his thoughts as he walked to the center of town until his eyes caught on a piece of red ribbon, half way covered with snow: a forgotten reminder of the celebration just two days before to welcome in the Christmas season. Lifting it he wound it through his fingers as he sat on the snowy edge of a fountain. He stared at the ribbon and wondered what it had wrapped. Did it belong to Caroline or one of the people who ignored her pleas?

When Reid entered Psych 101, he was just a kid with a couple of doctorates encouraged by his teacher to try his hand at taking apart minds the same way he could mechanisms. At that time he had not believed stories like Kitty or LaShanda's. Now, after all he had seen, he was not even sure why it surprised him.

_And then peeled the bells more loud and deep_

"Reid?"

He snapped his head up from contemplating the ribbon, eyes wide as he searched the snowy scene for a voice he could pick out of a crowd if he had to. "Gideon?"

His old mentor moved from the shadows towards him. Reid noticed he looked older. There were new wrinkles, new lines around his mouth, new grey in his hair. Reid was surprised. Gideon did not look better for having left the Bureau.

The young doctor stood and offered a cold hand. "I can't believe it…Gideon." The former agent stepped forward and took his hand, using it to pull Reid into a warm hug. Gideon held on to him an extra second before stepping back, but kept one hand on the kid's shoulder. "Gideon…how?"

"I heard the FBI was in town and I thought I'd see for myself," Gideon replied. Reid looked away from his intense gaze.

"So much has happened since you've been gone, Gideon."

The older man squeezed his shoulder. "I know that tone in your voice. Don't give up, Spencer."

Reid looked up and finally met his eyes. The warmth and comfort he saw there left a lump in his throat.

"I need to know there is still good in the world, Gideon."

"I know, we all get there at some point. From the profiler to the dentist, we all get there, Spencer."

"Is that why you left the Bureau?" Reid asked, a familiar feeling of abandonment starting in his shoes and rising up to settle heavily in his chest like the oppressive cold weather around them.

Gideon nodded slowly. "It was, but you won't find the answers by leaving. Believe me." Reid looked at him. "You want to find true good, true heroism, then you don't have to look any further than the next desk over."

"Then why don't you come back, Gideon?" He looked with eyes that bordered on pleading.

"You always made it hard to say 'no' to you," Gideon said with a fond smile that Reid would almost call 'fatherly', if that word did not seem like an insult after the father he had. "But…"

Reid closed his eyes and sank back against the fountain's edge, a hand covering his eyes from the gentle onslaught of snow. "I understand," he said, his tone tight and defeated. He felt Gideon's warm hand squeeze his shoulder once more and pull back.

"There is good in the world, Spencer, it's right in front of you."

_God is not dead, nor does he sleep_

"Yeah, where is it?" he snapped.

Silence fell between them, broken only by a distant sound of organ music. "I Heard the Bells." Reid recognized. The music mixed with the facts in his head. Henry Longfellow. 1868. His mom liked that one.

Slowly he opened his eyes. "Gideon?" He looked around him, pulling himself up gradually. The streets around him were empty save for the snow and the lone ribbon that fell from his numb fingers. All that was left of Gideon was a trail of footprints leading out of town and a piece of paper by Reid's hand.

The young profiler lifted it, trying to make out the words by the little light offered by Christmas décor.

"Reid?" Morgan's voice rolled over the snow to him. "There you are, pretty boy." He jogged up and leaned a hand against the fountain to try and catch Reid's eyes. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

Reid stuffed the note in his coat pocket and stood, brushing snow slowly off the seat of his pants. "I needed to clear my head."

"Is it any clearer now?" Hotch asked as he joined his two young agents. Reid glanced across the snow, letting his eyes follow Gideon's footprints.

"No, not really."

The organ music swelled as it reached the final chords and Reid's eyes were drawn up to the steeple of the cathedral. The moonlight made the stained glass baby in a manger seem to glow. "God is not dead nor does he sleep."

"Reid?" Hotch asked. The young agent shook his head.

_The wrong shall fail_

Reid pulled a quilt about his shoulders, trying to shake the chill that clung to his clothes from his impromptu trek in the snow. He watched as each member of the team busied themselves about getting settled on the plane before Morgan came over and took the seat across from him.

"So, are you going to explain why you look like you saw a ghost, kid, or am I just going to have to guess?" Morgan asked.

"I did," Reid replied. He saw JJ shuffling through folders. From where he sat he could count twelve. Twelve cases, each one of them involving lives. He was glad that he didn't have the exact number to do the math on. "Do we accomplish anything, Morgan? Anything really?"

Morgan followed his young friend's eyes, "One more unsub behind bars." He looked at Reid, "Do you know how many of the criminals the BAU has put away with your help?" Reid tilted his head. "That's a statistic I would be interested in, kid."

_The right prevail!_

Reid walked into the office and stopped. Starlight silver tinsel hung from every square inch of his desk. A miniature Christmas tree sat right on top of his paperwork, and in his seat sat a blonde bundle of smiles.

"Hey, my favorite Q-tip," Garcia said. "Someone sent me a message saying you might need some Christmas spirit."

"Someone?" Morgan asked, leaning his arms against the back of the chair.

Reid felt the piece of paper in his pocket and a small smile crossed his lips.

"Hot cider?" Garcia asked.

"Did someone say hot?" Emily asked, taking a mug and sighing as she pressed her hands straight against it.

_With peace on earth…good will to men. _

Garcia walked over to Reid and offered him a mug. He took it, feeling a tingle as it warmed his hands. Inhaling the fragrant steam deeply before sipping, he felt it warm him all the way down, while a very different feeling warmed straight to his core.

He lowered himself to his chair and took Gideon's advice. He looked across the desk. Emily laughed at something Morgan said and Rossi took the files from JJ, giving her a glance that brokered no disagreement. She would have fun with the others or else. Hotch even seemed lighter.

There was good in the world, even if he lost sight of that sometimes. The proof was there. No matter what became of the rest of the world he knew the seven members of the team would always seek truth out where it could be found. The seven angels. Tobias had understood what they were, just not what side they were for.

A bell rang somewhere outside and Reid lifted his head to listen. Christmas was behind them and New Year was fast approaching. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back and watched them. Slowly, he pulled the piece of crumpled paper out of his pocket and finally read the words.

_The words repeat of peace on earth good will to men._


End file.
